Saved
by Kaytrina
Summary: Each person has to find their own path to salvation. Stream of conscious. Connor's POV.


Metallic and sweet and salty at the same time. Rusty twang of blood that seeps from the

crack in his lip. This is the anchor, the comfort. This is home. Breath mixing, moist and

hot and sour from one too many, lips meeting in not quite a dance, more like a brawl. No

gentleness, that wouldn't work for either of you, now would it? Hands fisting in hair,

hands roaming over jacket, shirt, up and under to slick skin. Tingling skin, buzzing skin,

like after your first cigarette. Maybe if you pull hard enough, you'll pull him into you.

Back into one, back where you started. But you were never one, were you? Not really.

The same…but different. That's okay, though. Love springs from differences. And that

word, love, is so inadequate, not even coming close to conveying the meaning, the

fucking _title wave_ of ache, trust, warmth, worry, the rage of raw fucking _need_. It's too

much sometimes, overwhelming, like a rip tide, sucking you in, farther and farther out,

no hope of rescue. Except there's no want of rescue, for this _is _your rescue. This is your

lifeboat, saving you from life itself. Everything, _all of it_, is for him. For you both.

Deliver others to damnation in exchange for each other's salvation. That's the reason.

Maybe if you rid the world of others' evil, there'll be enough room for your own. This

massive sin that doesn't feel like sin, for how could love ever damn anyone? Now his

hands are roaming to places below, funny how it's always the things beneath that make

you soar. Friction. Delicious heat, almost burning, until the sweat starts to slide.

Tension building, a string stretching tighter, tighter, and you know it's going to snap,

know it for a fact, yet still it surprises the fuck out of you when it does. Surprise, mind

blank, yet colors splash behind your eyelids, light, stars, fucking galaxies even, and for

just a moment, a split second, you swear you can see the face of God. If He's here,

watching, then maybe he doesn't mind so much. And isn't He the one who made this,

invented the glorious animalistic ritual that takes you to the edge of sublime? And didn't

he give you the ability to love? Why does it matter who you choose to give it to? Better

than keeping it all for yourself. But now you're both gasping, his head is nestled into

your neck, his breath is concentrated humidity on your skin, hot, cool, hot, cool. His eyes

are a sight, who knew ice could turn the color of a stormy sea? But it's not their color,

not their shape, it's the light in them, brighter than a thousand nuclear blasts, and you

know that light is for you. Just for you. No guilt there. No need for that right now. No

words either. Never needed them, for your souls have been intertwined since the day you

were born. What are words of the mouth compared to the language of the soul? Too

much…too much. You want to laugh, cry, sing, moan, and you can't get close enough.

Hope. Hope that with enough blood, you can buy your way into heaven, both of you.

This won't stop…stopping would be death, only more agonizing. Hope God is a

bargaining man. Let you have this, let you have him, and you'll make His job easier.

You'll do the dirty work. But hell, even if it doesn't work, who the fuck cares? You're

both going to end up in the same place, aren't you? You'd follow him into the depths of

hell, and he'd do the same for you. As long as you're together. Hell would be heaven

with him by your side, and heaven would be hell without him. Side by side you'll be,

forever, wherever, and not even God can rip you apart. Too much thinking, though.

He's already asleep, looking like a tired, sweaty fallen angel. Sleep is fogging your

mind, no other fucking way you'd be so fucking cheesy. He'd laugh his ass off if you

ever told him that. It's warm here in his arms, the air, smell of sex and sweat and blood.

This is where you were meant to be. Wrapped in a blanket of absolute, pure, all

encompassing love. Safe. Happy. Wrong for others, but right in a way that only the

blessed can understand for you. Home. This is home. You're saving each other, and

that's the only salvation you need.


End file.
